The elevator doors dinged open, alerting us that we’d made it to our floor. Law pulled me up and out of the elevator, pressing his lips against mine. He pushed me against the hallway wall, sliding a hand up my shirt to cup my breast. We were only a few feet from his room but the fuse between us had blown. We were blacked out on each other. Lost in the darkness, we were each other’s light.
Law lifted me into his arms, lips still fused to mine like we held each other’s only oxygen, and carried me the last of the way to his room. When we entered, Law laid me on his bed.
“I have plans for you Nami.”
“What kind of plans?” I asked, my voice more breathless than I would have thought possible. Law gave me a crooked grin, the kind I felt all the way in my thighs, and walked over to the closet. He pulled out a black leather bag. I watched with equal parts excitement and trepidation.
Law unzipped the bag and slowly pulled out its contents: a long, silky looking, red braided rope. Law laid the rope next to me and, keeping his hand pinned to my side, put his other hand next me. I was boxed in.
“Do you remember what you wanted, Dandelion?” Law immobilized me with his gaze. I sucked in a breath. Law was referring to the conversations we’d had when he was Huck and I was Dandelion. He was referring to the things I’d posted anonymously. They were my secrets. They were my hidden desires. They were what got me raped.
I looked away, but Law grabbed my chin. “What are you thinking?”
“I don’t want to do it,” I lied.
Law raised an eyebrow, but let my chin go. “If that’s what you want.”
I wanted to be tied up and I wanted Law to be the one to tie me up. The rope rubbed against my arm, the smoothness edging away my resolve. The idea of Law tying me up…it had my heart pounding and my thighs wet. I was pretty sure Law knew all of that, because his eyes betrayed his doubt. He wanted me to tell him, though. That was the way Law worked. Law didn’t take anything that wasn’t expressly given—at least, not from me.
“It was the reason I was raped,” I blurted out.
“What?” Law’s stood up off me, giving me space. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean…” I exhaled, dreading giving an explanation. “I mean, I was on the website and Morris saw and he said I was asking for it. He said any girl who wants to be tied up is asking for it.” I intertwined my fingers, staring at the paintless nails. Rationally, I knew Morris was a pig. Still, there was a little part of me that thought maybe he was right. What person asks to be tied up?
“Nami, look at me.” Reluctantly, I turned to look at Law. “You are not responsible for what happened. You could have been surfing the internet naked in Morris’s office and you still would not be responsible. Morris is a rapist and you are everything. You are light. You are purpose. He will die and wither away and you will have lived despite him.” I sucked in my breath. Law’s gaze was fierce, his eyes like fire. He stood straight with everything in him strained, from his breathing, to his stare, to the muscles in his neck and the veins in his arm. He looked ready to fight and I realized he was ready to fight, for me.
Neither of us said anything. We let the words he’d spoken do their magic, twisting around us and settling like dew. At last I nodded. It would take a while to internalize what Law had said, but I was getting closer and closer each day.
“Do you think…” I paused, feeling dumb. “Never mind.”
“What?” Law unclenched, sitting down next to me. The fury in his voice dissipated like embers in a bonfire. All that was left was a warm, comforting smolder.
“Do you think we could just lie here for a while?” I turned to see Law’s reaction. Smiling, he gestured for me to come closer. He pulled me into him and I was warmed. I didn’t know how long we lay there; it seemed time stopped for a while. I lost myself in the comfort and safety of Law. I may have even fallen asleep. I knew Law would protect me and shelter me.
Our dreamlike world couldn’t last, of course. Sometime later, when the sun had gone down and the city lights twinkled through the hotel window, Law’s phone rang. I sat up, startled by the noise.
“Ignore it,” Law mumbled, stroking my hair. I lay back onto his chest, but a minute later the phone rang again. And again. And again. Law sighed and answered it on the fifth ring. I watched his face for any sign of emotion, but he betrayed nothing. He gestured for me to return to the nook I’d created between his chest and his arm, and we returned to our dream. For another hour, everything was perfect. Then Law spoke.
“Okay,” Law said into my hair. “This is kind of the worst time in the world to do this…”
“Are you proposing?” I joked. When Law didn’t respond, I quickly added, “I’m just kidding. Don’t freak out.”
“Nami.” Law stood up and separated us, holding my stare for longer than I would have liked. “I love you. I don’t plan on letting you go any time soon, hopefully never. Unfortunately, that’s not what this conversation is about. I have some…news.”
“News?” I shrugged off his gaze and looked at his phone, limp and alone on the nightstand.
Law rubbed his forehead. Looking out the window, he said, “I’m not sure if it’s good or bad.”
I crinkled my brow, not happy about the game he was playing. “Spill it, Law.”
Law looked away from the window and back to me before saying, “I’ve received word that Becca Riley is dead.”
Law’s pronouncement hit me like an avalanche. I hated Becca Riley with everything a person could hate. She’d murdered Raskolnikov, she’d ruined my life, but I didn’t want her dead. Becca was, as Law said, a victim of her circumstance.
“That bastard!” I yelled, standing off the bed. “He did it, didn’t he? He fucking murdered her.” I paced back and forth, rubbing my hands over my hair. Why would he kill her? What did he have to gain? It didn’t matter. Morris was a cold, calculating bastard. He’d probably done it for sport.
“Nami, listen to me.” Law stood up and grabbed me by the shoulders, forcing me to focus. “She killed herself.”
“What?” Another blow landed and I let out my breath. “Are you sure? Morris could make it look like she did.”
“It’s all over the news.” Law let go of me and exhaled. It was a few good seconds before he continued. “They’re running her suicide note. In it she blamed Morris and said he raped her. I don’t think Morris did it.”
“Wow…” That…that was way too much information. I slumped into an armchair, feeling like I’d just run twenty miles. I wanted Morris to get payback, but not that way…
Never that way.
“I know.” Still standing, Law stared at the blank TV, his face a mess of emotion I couldn’t decipher. “We could turn it on, see what they’re saying.”
“Do you really want to see that?” I grimaced at the thought. I could imagine what they were saying and the freaking field day they were having with the new information. The media was like vultures. They would pick apart anything if they thought it would feed their viewers.
“No.” Sitting back on the bed, Law put his head in his hands.
“Hey.” I walked over to Law and lightly touched his shoulder. “Are you all right?”
“This is my fault,” he said. “I should have gotten her out when I had the chance. I’m a fucking selfish asshole.”
“This is not your fault.” Just like Law had done with me, I had to make him see he wasn’t responsible. “Becca Riley was a fucked up person and that has nothing to do with you.”
“You don’t know, Nami.” Law took his head out of his hands and turned to me. “Two years ago you wouldn’t have recognized her. She was…” Law shook his head. “I ruined her. I’m a fucker.”
“Did you force her to do any of it?” I pressed.
“No,” Law conceded.
“Then it was her choice and you can’t take responsibility for that.” Law nodded, but the sentiment was hollow. It would take a while for him to realize he wasn’t responsible, and I knew a
little about that.
I linked my arm in his and followed his gaze out the window to the cold twinkling lights of Salt Lake City. From our perch, the lights were anonymous, just like from the plane. It was easy to pretend that they were stardust, not people picking apart Becca Riley’s death.
Becca’s death had, well, kind of killed the mood. Since we hadn’t eaten anything since the plane ride home from Boston, we decided to go out and get dinner. We entered the elevator and pressed the button for the lobby, the ride down much less exciting than the ride up had been. We held each other for comfort this time, not lust. When the doors dinged open, neither of us expected what lay on the other side.
Reporters swarmed us. Lightbulbs flashed. Questions flew. It was complete and utter chaos.
“How did they find me?” I asked Law. He shook his head, trying to block me from the swarm. There were no rules in a situation like that. The reporters didn’t ask nicely. They didn’t care if they hurt you trying to get a photo. All bets were off.
“Miss DeGrace what do you have to say about the recent allegations?” I shoved the nosy reporter aside as Law and I made our way to his car. Just as I made space to move, another one popped up.
“In light of Becca Riley’s suicide, are you going to ask the police to reopen your case?”
“No comment,” I growled. I slammed the car door shut, wishing I could slam it on their fingers. Before all of this had happened, I hadn’t been a violent person. I was actually quite a pacifist. Shit, I’d studied peace & conflict for fucks sake. Now, I carried a gun and envisioned slamming car doors on people. My mind jumped to Becca. It hadn’t even been a year and I could feel myself molding to fit my environment. She’d had years of it. No wonder she had become the monster she was.
Law wove in and out of the reporters. They chased the car, not caring if they hurt themselves in the process. Their bulbs flashed against the window, the bright lights like dying stars. When we finally pulled into The Bell Jar it felt like we’d been through a war.
“Did they follow us?” I asked Law as I stepped out of the door he’d opened for me. Law glanced down the street. It wasn’t empty, seeing as it was just about dinnertime, but there wasn’t a swarm of story-hungry reporters there either.
“I don’t think so.” Law’s voice was heavy as he shut the door behind me. Together we walked into The Bell Jar and we seated ourselves just like the first time we’d come. Unlike the first time, though, I wasn’t thinking of ways to leave. He had been a mystery then and I hadn’t trusted him.
There were still parts of Law that were a mystery to me, though, and maybe there always would be. Law was not the kind of person you got to know over dates and movies. Like diamond, Law was revealed through challenging circumstance. At first he appeared black and callous, but as you got to know him you saw what he truly was: sparkling, tough, and unbreakable. Law was one of a kind.
We both ordered the chicken and waffles (mine sans chicken), eating in silence for a bit. The day had spoken enough for the both of us. I reached for the water I’d ordered, a far cry from the whiskey I’d drunk to oblivion nearly a month before, and swished it around in my mouth, pondering. Not much time had passed, yet it felt like eons. It was nice to sit and have a meal with Law, just the two of us. It almost felt normal. So of course something had to interrupt.
“Breaking news as more information sheds light on the late Becca Riley’s allegations.” Law and I both set our forks down, our attention now held by the small TV set in the corner of the bar. A newswoman talked about Morris while information about him scrolled across the scene. It was a national news station, meaning Morris’s scandal was no longer local.
“Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Matthew Jameson has just released a story,” the newswoman continued. “In it Jameson alleges that not only are Riley’s accusations true, but that the accusations of one Nami DeGrace are also true. If you’ll remember, we did a brief story about her. She was a volunteer on his campaign some months ago and accused Morris of sexual harassment.” I scoffed. I had accused him of rape, but that was a nice spin. I glared at the blonde, somber-looking newswoman, wishing I could reach into the TV and slap her. Did she not realize the people she reported on were actually real? Instead I swallowed the bile building up in my throat and listened as she went into more detail.
“Jameson goes on to detail some quite shocking things that, if they are true, will not just mean resignation for Senator Morris, but quite possibly jail time.” Appetite now lost, I stared transfixed as the news story unfolded. Law appeared just as hypnotized as me.
“The Morris campaign, still reeling from the pushback from their senior campaign manager’s suicide, has yet to comment on Jameson’s allegations. Do you have anything to comment, Allison?” The screen split in half and another woman appeared who had cropped blonde hair and a perfectly made up face. I immediately recognized her as one of the reporters who had lynched me. I remembered her calling me a slut and liar only months before.
“Thank you, Candace. It’s clear to see that Senator Morris’s career is over. What is more interesting, though, is whether or not this new information will bring about formal charges. I’ve heard talk on the hill that formal sanctions are in order, but we’re still not sure if he will do any hard time, as they say. One thing’s for certain, Candace: I wouldn’t want to be him right now.”
A ridiculous commercial about hot dogs came on, which made it easier to turn my mind away from the news that had just broken. Slowly Law and I turned our attentions back to each other.
“Wow…” I said at last.
“I told you Jameson was more than the snapshot you saw.” Law’s words weren’t tinged with any arrogance or smugness. If anything, he sounded remorseful. We both knew that by breaking the story, Jameson would face repercussions. Most likely, he would be ostracized from the community. He might even need to move.
“Yeah…” I took another breath. “I guess I just…” I tried to find the words, but I was totally without. “I just, I mean you hope for something to happen, and then it happens. I don’t know what to feel right now.”
Law reached across and held my hand. “You’re in shock.”
I nodded. “I’m in shock but I’m also…uncertain? I don’t know if that’s the right word. I feel like I should be more happy, you know? I should be ecstatic, but I just feel…numb.” Law squeezed my hand and I lifted my eyes to his, grateful for him and his comfort. No sooner had my mind eased than my phone started to buzz. I looked at it like it was a venomous snake.
“What?” Law asked, removing his grip from mine.
“It’s my phone.” I picked it up, eyeing the unknown number. “It’s ringing.”
Law still didn’t understand. “And?”
“You, Tony, and Jameson are the only ones with this number.”
Law raised his brows, indicating his interest, but shrugged. “Maybe it’s a wrong number.”
“Maybe…” I let the phone ring itself out and then set it back down on the table. Our chicken and waffles were cold now. The night was growing longer and people were starting to leave, but I felt like Law and I were just getting started. Even though it was nearly ruined, I still wanted this night for us: a semi-normal dinner. Just as I was settling back into the booth, a notification appeared.
“What is it?” Law asked.
“A voicemail,” I replied, stupefied. I hadn’t had a voicemail in nearly a year. I picked it up and pressed play.
“Hey Nami, it’s Effie—” I hung up as soon as I heard my ex-best friend’s voice on the receiver. Law perked up, watching my reaction.
Before he could ask, I explained, “It was Effie, my old friend. She stopped talking to me when the media started covering me. All of my friends did…” I looked away. It still hurt thinking about how all of my “friends” couldn’t be arsed to listen to my side of the story, much less believe me.
What hurt the most, though, was Effie. I’d known Effie since the third grade. We’d witnesse
d each other’s first kisses; we’d held each other through our first breakups. She had been there when my parents died and had held my hand at the funeral.
She was more than my best friend. She was my sister.
And then she was gone from my life. All it took was a rumor blown way out of proportion. I went to her a day after the rape. I gathered all my strength to tell her I had been raped and that Morris had forced himself on me. At first she was the same old Effie. She held me as I cried. She promised we would make the police believe my story.
Then two days later the news started running my story. They painted me as a liar. They pulled every bit of information they could about my past and twisted it into a believable fiction. I called Effie for support, but she didn’t answer. I kept calling and calling until she finally picked up and said, “Look, Nami, I can’t keep supporting your delusions. Get help.” She hung up and that was the last I heard of her. I didn’t believe it at first. I couldn’t. How can you believe that your best friend, your sister, just abandons you after over a decade?
I knew I should have moved on. I’d moved on from everything else. I’d thrown yogurt in her face! Still. It’s one thing to move beyond the noxious, black tar that’s got you sinking, and another to give up hope in the sister that used to keep you tethered.
Law reached over and rubbed my back, helping me finish the story. I smiled gratefully at him and said, “I don’t know why she’s calling me now.”
“She probably saw the news,” Law offered.
“So?” I said into my hands, forcing my tears back inside.
“So the news isn’t painting you as a liar any more,” Law continued. “Effie probably saw the news.” I looked from Law to my phone and back to Law. I summoned all my strength to press play and finish the voicemail.
Elastic Heart Page 20